Category Archives: Life On The Ranch

Creatures of Habit

We all have habits or routines that we have fallen into, be we humans or animals. I’ve become more aware of these behaviors in my dogs following the death of our senior Border collie, Buddy. Little Jack, our erstwhile Texas Brown dog, following a suitable interval has taken to lying under the coffee table where Buddy exclusively laid.

Bella previously had adopted the routine of lying just outside “Buddy’s Office” which was a dog bed placed in a corner of the living room behind a decorative Oriental wooden screen. Buddy would nap in his office while Bella laid just outside the entrance to his “office”. Now she has left her prior “secretary’s spot” just outside and sleeps on Buddy’s prior dog bed in the “office”.

Buddy in his younger days

I suppose this means Bella’s period of mourning has passed. I am convinced she sorely missed Buddy after his death. She just didn’t act like she normally did. She was still anxious to ride in the pickup but frankly acted droopy. Of course Bella was the same breed of dog as Buddy and had always had her big friend around. This was quite a change for Bella, not nearly so much for Little Jack.

Bella enjoying a ride in the Gator
Little Jack in his favorite place (note the two pillows)

What gives? I know we all have our preferred places at the dinner table, favorite comfortable chairs, and habitual coffee mugs. In the case of my dogs I had assumed their “habits” were a dominance thing. That is, even at his advanced age Buddy was the dominant dog and had the favored spots in which to snooze. For the most part, the other dogs did not intrude on his space. Toward the end of Buddy’s life, I noticed Little Jack begin to take license with Buddy’s spots. But just maybe, like humans, these were learned routines that they had fallen into.

My two horses will almost always go to a specific end of the trough and await my pouring of their portions of feed. The chosen spots may in part be because Fancy, the Paint horse, will dictate the end of the trough she wants and run the gelding, Dandy, off. I assume she takes a glance at the mounds of feed and, if his feed looks more attractive and catches her eye, she none too subtly “relocates” him. Yes, this sounds like a dominance thing.

Fancy, our dominant female Paint horse
Dandy while larger than Fancy, tends to defer to her (the secret to a happy equine marriage?)

Other dog behaviors exist as when my dogs watch me get dressed in the morning. They particularly scrutinize me when putting on my ranch clothes, but not so when I pull out the golf togs. In the case of ranch clothing Bella becomes very excited and begins to bark vigorously. Her behavior proves quite annoying for me and Trudy. Little Jack’s role is to come between Bella and me and attempt to block her from excitedly jumping up on me. Both dogs clearly recognize patterns to my dressing and have their separate routines as how to behave.

With cattle I have also noticed a feeding “pecking order.” Quite predictably certain cattle (the younger Longhorn and one or two of the Black Baldies) will head pall mall for the feed sack as I begin to pour. They stake out the beginning of the feed line. Other cattle jostle for intermediate feeding positions with the calves and certain Black Baldies ending up at the end or in the case of younger calves not in line at all. I always attempt to make a particularly long line of range cubes so that all the cattle will feel comfortable getting in line for the range cubes. Clearly an ordering exists in the bovine food line.

You may not be able to tell us apart. but we sure know which of us are in charge

I’ve assumed this behavior in cattle was an act of pure dominance. Those will horns have a clear advantage, if not too old to do minor combat. Why some of the full grown Black Baldies end up as “Tail End Charlies”, I don’t know. I’ve assumed they are not quite as big or strong or perhaps were from a smaller herd when they joined my herd and haven’t been completely accepted as yet.

I would love to hear comments from readers as to the behaviors of their animals and how they mirror or interact with their humans. Remember our pets are always studying us, just like we study them.

If you haven’t already read my book, Carrying The Black Bag: A Neurologist’s Bedside Tales, please consider picking up a copy. It is available via Amazon or your local bookstore. It is a fun read, demonstrates a lot of humanity and courage from patients, and has been well reviewed. I would welcome your thoughts.

Carrying the Black Bag book

Buzzards and Vultures

What a joy to publish a guest blog piece  from a friend and true expert on bird behavior. The honor is even greater and more personal as Dr. Rylander was one of my principal professors when I attended college and majored in Zoology. What a surprise when Dr. Rylander and I learned that following our retirements that we had both chosen Fredericksburg, Texas, as a place to live. He is the author of Behavior of Texas Birds, published by the University of Texas Press.

One of the nearly constant sights over our ranch is the presence of vultures languidly circling high above. Little did I understand the differences of the two types of vultures that we see, although always being amazed by their graceful flight and efficient clean up of roadkill along our rural roads. Dr. Rylander makes their presence more meaningful and enjoyable to view than I had ever considered. Enjoy!

 

Guest Blog Piece by Kent Rylander, Ph.D.

Growing up on a farm during the late 1940’s, my brother and I called them “buzzards” – those large, black, hawk-like birds that soar in circles high overhead, or that stand on the highway by a road kill and fly away lazily if cars approach too closely. Even today most farmers in Denton County call them buzzards, and some still shoot them because they think they’re hawks or that they transmit diseases.
Later, when our parents gave us a field guide, we learned the preferred name, “vulture,” a term ornithologists introduced to distinguish our vultures from the unrelated African buzzards. We also learned that two species occur in Texas, the Turkey Vulture and the Black Vulture.

Black Vulture on the left and Turkey vulture on the right


Overhead these two vultures might appear to be the same species because they are so similar in general appearance. However, a closer look reveals that the Turkey Vulture is very light on the wing and rocks gently back and forth as it effortlessly soars for hours; it rarely needs to flap its wings. In contrast, the Black Vulture’s body appears too heavy even for its broad wings. Indeed, Black Vultures must flap and glide just to stay aloft even at high altitudes where thermals are strong.


The “personalities” of these two species are related to their different body types. Both have keen eyesight and regularly search for carrion while they soar high above the ground, but they differ in an important way. The Turkey Vulture’s large wing to body ratio allows it to fly low over the ground and locate small animals such as snakes and rodents. It also has a sense of smell, which almost all birds, including the Black Vulture, lack because olfaction is useless for an animal that spends most of the time in the air.


More than a century ago Audubon claimed he demonstrated olfaction in Turkey Vultures by placing a dead animal under a sheet next to a realistic painting of a carcass. A vulture flew down to the painting but ignored it, then pulled the carcass out from under the sheet.


Although Black Vultures can’t locate small carcasses because they must fly high to stay aloft, they compensate for this limitation by watching Turkey Vultures forage low over the ground. When a Black Vulture sees a Turkey Vulture feeding on a small carcass, it drops down and drives the Turkey Vulture away. The Turkey Vulture seems to accept being bullied by its much heavier and stronger relative, even when both are at a large carcass.


Is the Black Vulture more aggressive because its size enables it to be a bully, or is it basically just a more aggressive animal?


The answer to this question lies with the young, fluffy white fledglings, which hatch and live in small caves in cliffs and rock formations. When a person approaches a Turkey Vulture fledgling, the young bird cowers and retreats to the back of the cave; but when a Black Vulture fledgling is approached, it hisses and lunges at the intruder.


So when we look up and see Turkey Vultures and Black Vultures soaring together, ostensibly cooperating while looking for a well-deserved meal to share, we know that, thanks to their genetics, they’re not foraging together because they’re friends.

Survivor Duck

Years ago my neighbor and I shared a brood of Rouen baby ducklings. They were delivered by mail, raised in cages, and eventually when ours were grown walked by Trudy down to our nearby stock tank. Actually to Trudy’s surprise the following day she found that they had walked back to our back fence, and she had to again walk them back down to the stock tank.

These Rouen ducklings became big breasted and flightless ducks. While they can manage to fly for very short distances and at a foot or two above the water, they essentially are flightless. What we had not counted on was that these flightless ducks became particularly vulnerable to varmints, such as raccoons and coyotes. Sure enough, one by one, the ducks disappeared without so much as a suspicious pile of feathers being left behind. That is, all of the ducks but one, this being a male Rouen duck.

This is not MY Rouen duck, as he is currently moulting and not very pretty. This picture of a male and a female Rouen duck is taken from the internet


I’ve named thislone lone duck, Survivor duck, for obvious reasons. But what wasn’t at all clear to me was how this duck managed to dodge the predators and live when all the others had been lost early on. He has now been without any of his fellow ducks for some three or more years. How in the world did he manage this feat of survival?

As is my routine very morning, I head to the stock tank and throw out feed for Survivor Duck and for the bass and other stocked fish in the tank. Almost every day Survivor Duck paddles over to me and enjoys his breakfast. His ability to pluck the pellets from the water always reminds of of a sewing machine. His head simply flies up and down so fast that it becomes blurred.

He has become so used to my presence that he is almost tame. He will waddle along the ground a step in front of me and eat the feed that I throw either on the ground or in the water. I doubt he would let me approach him close enough to pick him up, but it would be close.

On the days when Survivor Duck doesn’t appear, I always fear he has become the latest duck to meet with a grisly fate. But within a day or two, I see him churning through the water toward me, as I open the duck box and begin to throw out feed.

My answer to this nagging question of how he has survived came not long ago. As I approached the stock tank, I scanned the pond and did not see Survivor duck. But Suddenly my eyes were drawn upward to a flying duck at around fifty feet. I watched it fly the length of the stock tank. As it approached overhead the duck banked to the right and made a long lazy loop out over the edge of my property and my neighbor’s property only to complete the circle back over the stock tank.

The duck flew toward me, lost altitude, extended its feet like orange skids, and landed in the water not more than twenty feet away. To my amazement it was Survivor Duck. Our so-called flightless duck had become proficient at flying. No doubt this ability explains his remarkable ability to avoid any duck devouring predators. I can now attest that there is at least one Rouen duck in the world that is NOT flightless.

Perhaps this just goes to prove that when faced with special challenges, this duck learned to evolve and adapt. Hmmm, may be there is a lesson here.

 

A Crafty Raccoon

As the days of Covid-19 linger on and my boredom mounts, I find myself focusing energy on unusual topics. Such has been a recent instance of identifying nocturnal intruders who persist in knocking down and destroying our bird feeders. Now my lovely wife, Trudy, holds that my attention to these matters borders on out of control obsessive/compulsive behavior, bordering on maniacal. I simply maintain that I am curious and have strict attention to detail.

In any event, our half dozen or so bird feeders have been repeatedly attacked. I found one or two of them dislodged from their attachments to the tree almost every day, and on occasion destroyed completely. Needless to say, my feathered friends needed me to act. Answers were required.

I began my quixotic enterprise by fastening two borrowed game cameras onto nearby trees and setting out a small live animal trap. Given previous experience with raided bird feeders, I suspected devilishly adept squirrels or raccoons. But keeping my differential diagnosis wide, as we physicians like to do at the outset of a case, I also threw in for good measure, the possibility of Big Foot.

I recognize those who are reading this blog piece immediately discount the possibility of Big Foot. Oh yea of little faith. In addition to Trudy I presented this intriguing possibility of Bigfoot to my good neighbors, Colonel and Mrs. Tom Norris. They too like Trudy had stricken looks on their faces, as if I might just have gone around the bend. Nevertheless, I remained undaunted and full of unrequited purpose.

Evidence of Bigfoot, ostensibly in our front yard

To enhance my case, I began sending pictures to Tom and Linda Norris of suggestive evidence of Big Foot. Who knows but Big Foot could be alive and well in Live Oak Valley, I said. Besides these bird feeders are hung as much as six feet above the ground making them too high for a deer to dislodge and surely too difficult to remove from its metal hanger by even the craftiest squirrel or raccoon. But not too high for Bigfoot to reach, I wager.

A hairy Bigfoot

 

Besides creating a myth that Big Foot is alive and well in Live Oak Valley wouldn’t do our tourist business any harm in our tourist driven city of Fredericksburg. Needless to say, Trudy and the Norrises remained skeptical despite clear cut pictorial evidence (amazing what you can find online) to support my thesis.

After setting the cameras and baiting the trap with marshmallows, I slept fitfully, not too patiently waiting for the sun to rise. Peering through our kitchen window the next morning at dawn at the live trap within the shadows not more than fifteen feet away, I found the trap had been cleaned out of marshmallows and had caught absolutely NOTHING. Repeatedly, I baited the trap only to find each morning that somehow the trap had been cleaned out of bait but had failed to capture the nocturnal intruder. Surely I thought this was evidence of a sentient creature such as Big Foot.

One of the cameras indeed caught a glimpse of a hairy creature that was mostly outside the frame. Ah ha, surely such a hairy beast must be the skulking Big Foot of Live Oak Valley! Admittedly, it also may have been a raccoon that climbed immediately in front of the camera’s lens.

Realizing that the live trap was rather small, I also wondered if somehow an animal had been able to crawl into the trap, travel to the end where the spring plate was located, eat the marshmallows, and manage somehow to prevent the trap door from falling behind it. To investigate this possibility, I borrowed a larger live trap from my neighbor, Jake Davies.

I again baited the larger trap, set the cameras and waited for my stealthy plan to unfold. Sure enough the next morning I found a rather angry raccoon within the trap, one also in a nearby tree, and the east side of a large raccoon heading rapidly west! Well, two down out of three is not too bad.

One Mad Raccoon. Not my raccoon but representative from the internet

Now I was confident that I could rid my proud dominion of intruding and raiding raccoons. All I needed was a fresh and goodly supply of marshmallows and some patience. To my surprise, days went by without capturing the raccoon. Each day I would steal out of bed early to check the large trap and find that the marshmallows had disappeared. Each evening I would place still more marshmallows at the end of the trap just behind the spring plate that when stepped upon would drop the gate and trap the raccoon.

To my amazement I continued not to capture the raccoon but continued to lose the bait. Finally I determined to make a closer inspection of the trap to determine why it was not functioning correctly. To my surprise, I found wedged under the foot plate, not one, not two, but three limestone rocks. Something or someone had placed these stones strategically such that it was impossible for the foot plate to be depressed and close the trap door. Meanwhile I thought one fat raccoon was wandering about my property with a big sticky marshmallow grin on its face.

Now I ask, has anyone ever seen a crafty raccoon clever enough to disable a live trap? I know they are smart but really… To make matters worse, following removal of the stones and re-baiting of the trap, never again has the trap or the bird feeders been hit.

I believe the raccoon and I have established a truce of sorts at this juncture. The raccoon seems to have given up on the bird feeders and I am about to return the large live trap. Now perhaps I can focus on other somewhat more productive pursuits. Besides, maybe Big Foot still lurks out there somewhere in Live Oak Valley.

 

 

Winter At Medicine Spirit Ranch

The work changes with the seasons at Medicine Spirit Ranch. In many ways winter is the busiest time of year because we must keep the animals supplied with hay and supplemental protein.

Also we carry out tasks more suited for winter months. For example, the small evergreen juniper saplings, referred to locally as “cedar”, visually contrast better in winter from the tall brown grass. This makes it easier to find the cedar in winter and to apply a set of loppers to the task. The cedar is most unwelcome on ranches, because it demands huge amounts of water and competes with the various grasses needed for our grazing animals.

Also we repair fences during the winter. The fences become stretched from cows leaning over them and deer jumping through them. Also feral hogs have made their unwelcome appearance and will likely create still more fencing problems. Ugh!

We horses need our protein pellets every day. Now don’t be late!

We work on equipment during the winter that typically is in heavy use during the warmer parts of the year. We cut dead trees and clear drainage pipes under ranch roads. The daily cattle feeding is greater during the winter than during the remainder of the year as we keep them supplied with hay in the form of giant (900 pound) bales. We also feed the cattle range cubes on a daily basis to supplement their protein needs.

The horses on the other hand receove their protein containing feed every day year round whereas the cattle don’t during the non-winter months. Given the excitement and jousting for the range cubes by the cattle, we refer to it as “cow candy.”

So why do the horses get supplemental feed every day of the year and we don’t?

This past week we’ve been repairing a well in one of our pastures. This job proved arduous, as we had to dig up a 45-gallon container that was buried in the ground. The container stores water and moves it to a nearby water trough. We found a leek at the connection that fed into the bottom of the tank. Unfortunately after replacing the pump motor, replacing the water container and some  PVC connections,  and then reburying the tank, we sprung yet another leak. It seems the large water container sank deeper into the hole, re-breaking the PVC pipe. A second attempt at this fix hopefully has addressed the problem. We’ll see. So far, so good.

Curious how the cattle stood around the developing pond resulting from the leak and gawked at our inability to fix their water trough. I am pretty sure Number 36, a.k.a. “the Tongue” was chuckling. Cheeky cow! She is my nemesis.

We continue to vaccinate calves for black leg (a bacterial infection) and periodically take a load of yearlings to market. Six calves have been born within the last week or so. They are so cute at this age. See their pics below.

We never seem run out of tasks on the ranch despite the season. Nevertheless, I can hardly wait for Spring to arrive.

Auslander Ranchers

I received the lovely photograph (see below) from a friend and amateur photographer, Jim Harris. In truth the picture was taken of a woman in chaps from New Mexico, but it fits well our local situation. Many folks moving into the Texas Hill Country bring with them their lifestyles and fashions.

Branding In Style

The photograph depicts this aspect nicely. You can notice the clean red ostrich boots on this well-dressed lady rancher. If you look closely, you will notice a diamond bracelet on her wrist. She is, nevertheless, wielding the branding iron with an air of competence and determination. Her dress is not the usual dress of our locals who typically wear worn out jeans, muddy work boots, pearl button shirts, and beat up cowboy hats.

Gillespie County, the county in which Fredericksburg is located, continues to have agriculture as its number one industry. Admittedly, this distinction has been helped of late by the 100 or so wineries and vineyards that have flocked to our area. Gillespie county ranchers continue to raise many cattle, goats, and sheep.

Being a newly minted rancher back in 2001, I felt the probing and suspicious eyes of my fellow ranchers when I attended Field Days or other agricultural events. I was, after all, a newbie and likely seen as an Auslander with questionable intent. I certainly lacked ranching experience. In any event after eighteen years, Trudy and I feel better integrated and believe we do a reasonable job ranching cattle. Nevertheless, this picture reminds me of the social divide and suspicion we felt in those early days after moving in at Medicine Spirit Ranch.

Have you ever experienced similar cultural divides? Would love to hear from you.

Morning Symphony

Trudy and I continue to “camp out” in our guesthouse while our home undergoes renovation and restoration. Because of a flood, our wooden floors required replacing and we had to move out for three weeks. While we were at it, we decided to do a bit of updating as well. Fortunately we had a guesthouse to move into rather than having to move to a motel (a dog friendly one, of course). We plan on moving back to our usual house in just a few days. Hoorah!

While we have felt frustration over our inability to access certain items, my morning routine has remained unchanged. It begins with a canine symphony, or should I call it a canine cacophony?

You see, after I shower and begin to dress for the day, my two Border collies, Bandit and Bella, begin barking like crazed dogs. They become so excited by the prospect of going out onto the ranch. They are not at all patient


“Two-footed humans sure move slowly!”

.

Jack, our little brown dog, appears nonplussed by the whole matter. If anything Jack places himself between the Borders and me, attempting to prevent the overly excited collies from jumping up  while I totter about on one leg, putting on my jeans.

I am a good dog in the morning, not like those noisy Border collies.”

I’ve found that the barking of the Border collies cannot be suppressed. I try repeatedly to shush them verbally, but to no avail. I even resort to gently squeezing their jaws together. Nothing works. Bella, bless her little canine heart, has even taken to nipping at my legs (very disconcerting for me), if I don’t move along at her desired pace. She clearly herds me in the direction of the pickup and becomes visibly frustrated if I need to double back.

Unfortunately, even on reaching the pickup, the morning symphony of dog barking doesn’t stop. My good neighbor and friend, Tom Norris, says he can always tell where I am on the ranch because of the dogs’ barking. You see, sounds carries very well in Live Oak Valley.

I suppose my dogs’ barking is a new form of G.P.S., i.e. godawful pet sounds! Or maybe it should be C.P.S, Canine Positioning System. Eventually the dogs stop barking, although I suspect it may be because of doggie hoarseness.

My frequency of blog posting (and FB posting) has slowed lately. This absence results from the time I’ve  devoted to writing another book. I am entering the final phases of finishing my next book (well prior to sending it off to potential agents and publishers and the lengthy process that is sure to follow). My book is tentatively titled Hitler: Prescription for Defeat.

The book seeks to answer the “Holy Grail” of questions about Hitler- that is, what was it that affected his reasoning to the extent that he made such colossal blunders in judgement toward the end of World War II. The premise of my book is that Hitler’s failing health and abnormal personality largely explain his errors in judgment and aided the Allies in achieving victory. The book goes into Hitler’s major and minor illnesses along with describing his unusual personality characteristics and how these aspects worked against him. His health is spliced into a number of the major battles of World War II. Wish me luck!

I have  received feedback from my beta readers on Hitler: Prescription For Defeat and have made the necessary edits. I feel so grateful for the time and expertise of Janet, LaNelle, Tom, and Madeline for carrying out this helpful task. Thank you. Extra sets of eyes prove very useful!

By the way, if you haven’t had a chance to read my first book, Carrying The Black Bag: A Neurologist’s Bedside Tales, I hope you will pick it up at your favorite bookstore or order a copy. The book has won awards, and received generous comments from Amazon readers. These reviews on Amazon are extremely welcome and encouraging.

Carrying the Black Bag book

My absolute favorite feedback about Carrying The Black Bag came in the form of a picture from a family member who was at the time training as a Pediatric surgical nurse.

This young reader gave me a great morale boost by reading my book between surgical cases

Taylor McNeill, a surgical nurse and dear niece, reading my book between cases

The days at Medicine Spirit Ranch are lengthening and warming, and it won’t be long until Central Texas looks like the picture below. Spring with the wildflowers is hard to beat!

Bluebonnets and Paints

The Lunar Eclipse and Blood Moon

Like many of you, Trudy and I recently stayed up late to witness the lunar eclipse and “Blood Moon.” Received spectacular pictures of this from Bruce Frels, brother to good friend and retired Dentist, Buddy Frels. Bruce is a professional photographer and captured these images. This is what the night sky looked like over Medicine Spirit Ranch.
Hope the quality shows up for these really amazing photos. Here goes!

 

I hope this provides you with the same sense of awe I experienced. One advantage of living out in the country is very little light pollution. It makes witnessing such scenes as this really speccial. Hope you enjoy the sight.

Great Blue Herons Are Adaptable

I’ve written about Great Blue Herons in this blog previously and have been especially impressed with their legends and natural beauty. Pleasingly our ranch has again been graced by several Great Blue Herons that create in me a sense of awe both by their size and striking beauty.

Each morning I’ve spotted  a Great Blue Heron in the top of a tall tree on the other side of our stock tank, watching me. My procedure has been to throw out feed for the duck and  fish. I always throw some feed near the shore to attract fish for the heron that I know will soon arrive. The feed  attracts fish and the Great Blue Heron arrives as soon as my back is turned. I’ve written of this previously in a blog post “Chumming for Heron”.

A Great Blue Heron. Not my heron but representative

The heron’s technique in the past has been to make himself small by curling itself up, hiding in the weeds, and at the right instance, launching itself at an unsuspecting  fish. Lately the fish seem to have caught onto the heron’s fishing ways and avoid swimming close to the bank of the pond. Nevertheless, many fish surface for the food just out of the heron’s reach.

Successful fishing. This is not really my heron but a look alike. Mine is too camera shy to allow me to snap a good image of it.

I’ve witnessed the heron missing meals of late due to this adaptability by the fish. To my surprise and in response to the change in fish behavior, I’ve also noticed a change in the heron’s fishing tactics. The heron  has begun landing on the surface of the water and swimming around like a duck. Upon spotting a fish in the shallow water, the heron suddenly turns tail to heaven. Soon it surfaces with a fish in its beak.

Also I’ve witnessed a second change of tactics. The heron flies across the tank at low altitude obviously searching for fish and then suddenly plunges into the water head first. The heron submerges itself, but sure enough on regaining the surface it has a fish in its beak. It then swims to the bank where it  enjoys its breakfast.

Such adaptability in herons as well as fish, I find interesting and surprising. I assume  in the game of life for herons and fish, adaptability benefits both just as adaptability has great value for us humans.

I trust the heron will enjoy a nice meal for Thanksgiving, as I hope readers of this blog will as well. Happy Thanksgiving!

How Green The Valley

When the drought ended a few weeks back, it ended on a convincing note- over 10 inches of rain. What a difference rain makes. Despite the obviousness of this statement, I find myself in a state of wonder and awe when seeing our new crop of wild flowers, deep green grass, and flowering bushes around the ranch and yard. Thought I would share a few pictures.

Wildflowers against a background of green pasture

Copper Canyon daisies have popped up all over

Lantana has been going crazy both in the yard and all over the ranch

The flowers in our Texas plantar (who says I’m a proud Texan?) have begun to flower once again

Little Jack: Flowers are okay I guess, but nothing tops a good scratch

Speaking of inspiration, yesterday I sneaked off to the driving range and hit golf balls. There I ran across a man in his forties who was also smacking balls. The difference was that he had a congenitally deformed foot that allowed him only to balance on the toe of his left foot. Despite this handicap, he was out battling the golf gods and giving no quarter to his handicap. Now this was inspirational!

I hope everyone takes a few moments and looks around for the little things in their lives that provide inspiration, awe, and hope. It is there if we just look.